Life, is but a fleeting moment, and it keeps passing by ominously, while we listlessly let it be, engaging in the fruitless task of associating profound meaning with trivial arguments, cajoling ourselves into believing that the world as we know it shall end if we do not arduously engage in the battle at hand.

I mean seriously, we would hardly remember the reason for this rife a few years down the line. But then again, inexperienced that I am in the matter of relationships, what do I know of the world out there. People not wanting to live with someone can use laughable arguments like too much snoring to push for separation, and Lord knows, the situation in which we are and what we have gone through, I can be nothing but amazed that you still consider me good enough to be with after all that you have gone through because of me.

But then again sometime I wonder whether you really want to be with me, or whether I am just the crutch that you no longer find value in but still are too used to, or if you are just bidding your time, waiting to strike us off the charts given the right opportune moment. I guess only you can know for sure, and I have doubts if even you do. But whatever be the truth, and whatever the future may hold for us, I want you to know that I want to thank you and Moanu from the very core of my heart and soul for trying to be with me, inspite of everything you say and show, to tirelessly bear me, even though every fabric of your reality is screaming out 'no more'.

I do not know what awaits for me in the future, but I do know for sure that my life ends the day both of you are not a part of it. It is not that I am used to you, and I assure you that the boy who can adjust and be like water in any situation is long dead. The only reality in my life is, inspite of my slip ups and mistakes, for the past so many years, I have irrevocably bound my happiness to yours, my failures to your dissatisfaction, my ascension to your ideals, and my life to your presence. I do not know if it is foolish or if this is love, but I do know that whatever you call it, that's my truth, and it shall be so for as long as I breathe.

Shattered into a million pieces,
Every time I scramble
To collect and piece together
Just enough of them
To help you see yourself clearer
Every time you glance towards me
But try as I may
The pieces of my former self
Do not stay together
Long enough for me to rebuild myself
And attempt to attain
My lost beauty, lost forever
My efforts too lost in vain.

Cast me away
O' beautiful princess
Do not look at yourself
Through the ugly mist that I am
A thing of beauty
I wish one day
You see yourself
And believe in
Who you truly are
Not just what you see through me.

Let me be just a mirage in your life
Keep me in your memories
As the gleaming polished mirror
you fell in love with
And gave place in your heart and home
Not the motley of shattered pieces
I have become now
Which can't reflect anymore
Rather just poke your soft heels
And make them bleed
Every time you don't walk away.

Care to know me?

A young mind with a voracious appetite, which grew up on classic paperbacks and is currently devouring the digital media, reigning supreme over a non-sycophant soul and locking horns with a body that sways blithely on even the faintest strains of acoustic melody coalesce to put forth this humble human known as 'Charlie' among friends.

Tremors of Psychitude

Incomplete Symphony
-
Music of my melancholy
Rises and falls in its own symphony
Lost into my loneliness
Surrounded by void passions
Empty page, staring at nothingness
so much...

6 days ago

The Raven's Soul Song

"It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world." - John Steinbeck in 'East of Eden' (1952)

Quotes of Note

"In a world without fences and walls, who needs Windows and Gates?"

"What I am doing may be a sin, but Satan did'nt become famous for nothing."

"When the itch of literature comes, nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen."